


Collision Course

by todxrxki



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Kuroo is a hopeless dork, M/M, au where kenma and kuroo didn't meet as kids, haikyuu manga spoilers, pretty minor manga spoilers tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 14:15:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16914432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/todxrxki/pseuds/todxrxki
Summary: Even though Kenma’s glad to see Kuroo be the obnoxious, talkative captain he was always meant to be, it’s sometimes nice to see a glimpse of the quiet, polite boy he’d first met. Just another reminder that even though things change, he and Kuroo never really will. / AU in which Kuroo and Kenma don't meet until high school, and Kenma wasn't there to break Kuroo out of his shell.





	Collision Course

It’s the first day of Kozume Kenma’s first year at Nekoma High School, and he already hates it.

 

People are much bigger than in middle school. So far, it seems, they’re also much tougher. In the halls, they shove each other, and occasionally they shove Kenma too, even though he’s so small it’s often hard to see him. And though there are a lot of kids in his class, none of them talk to him, nor does he talk to them. He tells himself it’s easier that way.

 

Kenma does not have a single friend.

 

He went all through primary school and middle school without any friends. He’d had a few acquaintances, and some people he had silent understandings with, but no one he could truly call a friend. Everyone was too loud or too annoying or too boring, or at least he told himself that. Maybe it was also that he thought they hated him. Or at least they would hate him if they got to know him.

 

However, it seems that this is going to be a problem as he walks into the classroom for lunch time. Everyone is sitting in clusters, chatting with their friends, and someone is sitting on Kenma’s desk. The desk he very much needs to be able to eat at. Frustrated, he groans, and then decides he really does not want to have to talk to anyone to get his seat back.

 

He leaves the classroom. He walks down the hall, then spots a set of stairs he’s never gone up before. Curious, he climbs up the stairs. They lead to an empty hallway, white and bland, and there’s an empty classroom at the end of the hallway.

 

Kenma’s played enough horror games over the past fifteen years to know how this goes. And yet, some kind of morbid curiosity takes over, and he pushes open the door.

 

Immediately, he yelps.

 

There’s a guy in the classroom. A guy about his age, though quite a bit taller, a guy with messy black weird hair that falls in his eyes, a guy with his lunch in front of him, staring back at Kenma like he’s just as startled. The guy blinks at Kenma. Kenma blinks back, then, as if possessed by a much friendlier spirit, says, “Hi.”

 

“Hi,” the guy replies, sounding guarded.

 

“I...” Kenma trails off, not sure what to say. It’s an odd situation, and not one he’s been placed in before. “Do you mind if I eat in here?”

 

“...no,” the guy says eventually. “You don’t want to eat in your classroom?”

 

“No,” Kenma says. “You?”

 

“No,” the guy says. It’s quiet for a few moments as Kenma opens his lunch and begins to eat, but eventually the guy says, “Who are you?”

 

Kenma feels a little weird about giving his name out to this guy who could very well be a spirit of some sort, but decides he could very well find out his name from his classmates if he needed to that desperately, and says, “Kozume Kenma. Year 1, Class 3.”

 

“Ah,” the guy says. “A first year.”

 

“Yes,” Kenma says, wondering if the guy will elaborate. He supposes that means the guy is a second or third year, which makes the whole situation even stranger. He’d always assumed that second and third years had friends and vibrant social lives, like they always did in the manga he read and games he played.

 

“I... I suppose I should introduce myself,” the guy says awkwardly. “Kuroo Tetsurou, year 2, class 5.”

 

“Okay,” Kenma says. It’s kind of nice to have a name, just so he doesn’t have to keep referring to Kuroo as ‘the guy’ in his head. Kuroo keeps looking down, though, staring at the bowl of rice in front of him. He looks incredibly embarrassed for some reason. Kenma hadn’t imagined there could be anyone in the world more socially inept than himself.

 

Kenma doesn’t ask anything else, just sits and eats his rice in silence. He figures that Kuroo seems like he seeks out this room for its solitude. But when he leaves, he turns to Kuroo and says, “Thanks for letting me join you, Kuroo-san.”

 

“You don’t have to call me that,” Kuroo says quietly. “Just Kuroo is fine.”

 

Interesting, Kenma thinks to himself as he heads back to his classroom. He doesn’t know how to feel about it.

 

.

 

Kenma goes back the next day. And the next. And the next. They don’t talk much, only exchanging pleasantries and occasional chat about the weather. On the fifth day, though, Friday, he finally gets up the courage to ask, “So why do you eat in here?”

 

Kuroo chokes on the rice he’s eating. After coughing up a grain in the most disgusting way, he manages to get out, “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

 

“Most people eat in their classrooms.”

 

“You don’t either.”

 

Kenma sighs. “There are these annoying boys in my class that are friends. One always sits at my desk during lunch hour. I don’t want to ask him to move.”

 

“Ah,” Kuroo says softly. “I... I don’t really have any friends in my class. And I don’t want to be seen eating alone.”

 

“That’s okay,” Kenma says, shrugging. “Me neither.”

 

He thinks he sees a bit of a smile make its way onto Kuroo’s face. It’s very interesting. He takes note of it, wonders if he’ll see it again.

 

.

 

The next Wednesday, Kenma asks Kuroo if he’d like to come over to his house.

 

He’s not even sure how it came up. One second Kuroo was staring at the desk in his usual silent manner, then saying, “So what do you like to do?”

 

“I play a lot of video games,” Kenma tells him.

 

“Video games?” Kuroo says.

 

“Do you play?” Kenma asks.

 

“No,” Kuroo says, a little bit of red creeping up into his cheeks. “My, uh, my family never really had many video game systems, and I don’t have any siblings to play with anyways. I… I doubt I’d be any good anyways.”

 

Kenma finds it a little sad. Before he can think twice about it, he finds himself saying, “Well, you could come to my house after school to play… if you want.”

 

“Really?” Kuroo’s eyes seem a little brighter. “I… that would be cool.”

 

Kenma promises to meet him at the school entrance once school lets out. Once he finally gets out of class, a minor headache settling in, he grabs his things and practically darts through the crowd to the front entrance. Somehow, Kuroo is already standing there, his bag on the ground in front of him, his head down enough so that his crazy hair can fall into his face. Once Kenma walks up, though, he tilts his head up the slightest bit and smiles. Kenma feels something odd tingling in his chest, but pushes it away.

 

“Let’s go,” Kenma says. The two begin walking, close enough so that they don’t get separated, but far enough as to not be awkward. Kenma leads them to his house, pushes open the door, and before Kuroo can offer any kind of greeting, says, “No one’s home.”

 

“Oh,” Kuroo says, glancing around. He offers, “You have a nice house.”

 

Kenma shrugs. “It’s decent.” He leads Kuroo up to his room, where Kuroo looks around somewhat awkwardly before Kenma pats the bed. “You can sit here. I’ll sit on the floor.”

 

“I… okay,” Kuroo says, sitting down on his bed. Kenma turns on his system and grabs the extra controller he’s been reserving just in case, handing it to Kuroo. He starts up his favorite fighting game.

 

“So this is how you move,” he explains, leaning towards Kuroo to show him the controls. “And this lets you jump. This is a basic attack, and this is a special attack. And if you press the two buttons together you can do, uh, like a finishing attack, but your meter has to fill up first.”

 

“That’s a lot at once,” Kuroo says.

 

“You’ll get the hang of it,” Kenma says, shrugging.

 

“What character should I be?” Kuroo asks, peering at the character selection screen. “This guy seems… uh, muscular.”

 

“He is, but he’s also slow,” Kenma says. He takes Kuroo’s controller, guiding the joystick over towards another character. “I think this one is better for beginners. But when you get better, you can play as the muscular guy.”

 

Kuroo nods, his cheeks heating up a little again. Kenma’s sure it’s just a symptom of his shyness, but Kuroo seems to blush a lot. He wonders if Kuroo will warm up to him, and honestly, he kind of hopes he will.

 

They play a couple of rounds, Kuroo grunting out stuff that sounds suspiciously like “ _damn it”_ and _“shit”_ every time he loses. This surprises Kenma; he hadn’t really pegged Kuroo as the type of guy that had such a dirty mouth, but he supposes not even he can read everyone perfectly.

 

Around six, Kenma hears the door downstairs. He pauses the game, says to Kuroo “just a second”, and then dashes downstairs. He greets his mother and then says, “I’ve got a friend here. Is that all right?”

 

Kenma’s mother nearly drops the groceries she’s holding. “A _friend_?”

 

“From school,” Kenma says. “Well, kind of a friend. But…”

 

“Yes, yes, of course!” his mother says, sounding delighted. “Tell him to stay for dinner if he wants. This is so great, Kenma; I’m so happy for you, baby!”

 

Rolling his eyes, Kenma heads back up the stairs. He unpauses the game, then says, “My mom says you can stay for dinner if you want.”

 

Kuroo glances up at Kenma, then turns his eyes back to the game, mumbling, “Well, only if you want.”

 

Kenma shrugs noncommittally. “I don’t mind.”

 

“I will, then,” Kuroo says. “Let me text my mom.”

 

After Kuroo does so, Kenma says, “You should probably have my number. You know. Just in case.”

 

“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds logical,” Kuroo says in an oddly hurried way, handing Kenma his phone. Slightly amused, Kenma programs his number in. Kuroo is weird, he thinks to himself, but in an interesting way.

 

His mother calls them down for dinner soon after. She rounds on Kuroo almost immediately, looking a little shocked - probably at the way that Kuroo looks very much like a party-type of guy, which he is very much not - and then smiles. “You must be Kenma’s friend,” she says. “I’m so glad to have you here!”

 

“Kuroo Tetsurou,” he says with a slight bow. “Nice to meet you. Thank you for having me.”

 

“Oh, and so polite!” Kenma’s mom says. “Not like my Kenma here.” She swats at the top of Kenma’s head, and Kenma frowns. His mom is so embarrassing.

 

“Thanks for dinner, Mom,” Kenma says in a deadpan voice, and his mom swats at him again.

 

“That’s not sincere,” she scolds. “Anyways, Kuroo, huh? Any relation to the Kuroos down the street?”

 

“Yes,” Kuroo says with a nod of his head. “That’s my family.”

 

Kenma whips his head around to stare in shock at Kuroo. “You didn’t say.”

 

“Sorry,” Kuroo says. “But yeah. My house is just down the street.”

 

“You’ll have to come over often then!” Kenma’s mother says affectionately. “You’re welcome any time here.”

 

Kenma notices that Kuroo smiles down at the table, then hides it before anyone notices. “That’d be great. Thank you.”

 

.

 

Kuroo holds true to that.

 

He comes home with Kenma every day after school for the next week. They play video games and occasionally talk, mostly short, stilted conversations about things like animals - Kuroo and Kenma share the same favorite animal, a cat. He eats dinner with them most nights, though two of the nights he excuses himself, saying he has important family matters to attend to.

 

On the sixth day Kuroo comes to his house, Kenma says, “You know, we always play this game. Are there any other games you want to play?”

 

Kuroo jumps up with an inhuman speed. It shocks Kenma; he’s never seen Kuroo move with such quickness before. “I’ll be right back,” Kuroo says before he takes off and out of the house.

 

He returns just a few minutes later with a volleyball in his hands, only panting slightly. Kenma thinks he should have figured this out before, considering that Kuroo is not out of shape in the least. He’s very well-built and has well-developed muscles. Blinking, Kenma mutters, “I meant video games.”

 

Kuroo doesn’t seem to hear him, because he says, “We can play around back.”

 

It’s the most excitement he’s heard in Kuroo’s voice ever. Something about it tugs at Kenma’s heartstrings, because despite his absolute abhorrence for anything that involves physical activity, he follows Kuroo around to an empty plot of land. Kuroo immediately starts talking, the excitement still coating his voice. “Toss the ball to me, please. So, you pass like this.” He demonstrates, sending the ball up in a straight line. “You want it to go pretty high up and in front of you, because you’re sending it to a setter.”

 

“Setter?” Kenma asks, crinkling his nose. This sounds like a lot of technicalities Kenma’s not going to understand.

 

“That’s not important right now,” Kuroo says. “But anyways, throw it again. I’ll demonstrate again and then you can try.”

 

Kuroo’s pass once again goes in a perfect arc. Kenma watches in wonderment, then does his best to copy Kuroo’s form, but his pass hits his arm and goes flying.

 

“Well, that’s not what you said would happen,” Kenma grumbles.

 

Kuroo stares at him, then looks off at the ball, and then, completely unexpectedly, dissolves into laughter. Not the quiet laughs he’s heard from Kuroo before, but real, loud cackles. It’s a nice sound, Kenma thinks, as he starts to laugh too.

 

Kuroo runs off to retrieve the ball, then says, “Keep practicing. You’ll get better.”

 

Kuroo teaches him about tossing next, which is apparently the job of the setter. Kenma finds it a little easier than passing. Then, finally, Kuroo gets Kenma to toss it to him and he demonstrates a hit.

 

It’s one of the most amazing things Kenma’s ever seen.

 

Kuroo practically flies through the air, giving it all he’s got. He hits the ball with so much force that Kenma has to duck a little bit because he’s afraid it could take his arm off if it hit him. The ball hits the ground and bounces up, up, up, until it’s landing near Kenma again.

 

Awe-stricken, all Kenma can say is, “Wow.”

 

“I’m not that good at it,” Kuroo says with a self-deprecating shrug. “But I like hitting.”

 

Kenma says, “You could’ve taken my arm off with that hit,” and then, “You’re really good.”

 

Kuroo blushes again. Kenma can’t look away.

 

.

 

Kuroo leaves with the promise to bring over volleyball game tapes next time, and though Kenma’s still not sold on the concept of volleyball, he agrees because he likes seeing Kuroo like this. Besides, Kenma finds the next day, watching volleyball tapes is much more fun than playing volleyball. He doesn’t have to move, and as Kuroo explains the rules, the game starts to even become fun.

 

“Did you see that?” Kenma asks on the third day of watching the tapes, unbridled excitement making its way into his voice. “The setter was looking at that guy like he was going to send it to him, but then he sent it to the other guy! He completely fooled the other team.”

 

Kuroo grins back at him. “Yeah, it was super cool. Say, y’know, Kenma, I think you’d be a really good setter.”

 

The immediate reactions that come to Kenma’s head are _no way I’m playing volleyball_ and _nope_ and then _wait, he called me by my first name_? What he says, though, is mostly fueled by his curiosity. “Why do you say that?”

 

“You seem to be really good at strategy,” Kuroo says. “Knowing who to send it to, coming up with plans. That’s usually what the setter does.”

 

 _Interesting,_ Kenma thinks. It seems as he’s been observing Kuroo, trying to figure Kuroo out, Kuroo had been doing much the same to him.

 

.

 

He gets the nerve up to ask Kuroo the question that’s been weighing on his mind while they’re outside practicing volleyball yet again. Kenma’s been passing the ball over and over to Kuroo and he complains, “This hurts. And my arms look like hell.”

 

Kuroo laughs. “It’s nothin’ but a little internal bleeding. They go away pretty quick. And the more you play, they’ll stop showing up until they’re not there at all.”

 

Kenma’s eyes widen. He makes it sound so effortless, so cool, that Kenma can’t help but admire him a little bit. Kuroo seems to take it a different way, though, because he suggests, “Why don’t we take a little break?”

 

After sipping at his water for a little bit, Kenma turns to Kuroo and says, “Why aren’t you on the volleyball team?”

 

Kuroo glances over at Kenma, his eyes wide. Kenma thinks he must be shocked at the question, which doesn’t make much sense, because he clearly loves volleyball and would be great on the team. Finally, Kuroo says, “Well, honestly, I’m scared.”

 

“Of what?” Kenma asks.

 

“I’m not that good,” Kuroo says. Before Kenma can object, Kuroo continues by saying, “And I… I didn’t want to join alone.”

 

Kenma thinks he might be experiencing some sort of temporary insanity, because what comes out of his mouth next, before he can even think about the consequences, is, “I’ll join with you then.”

 

God, he must really hate himself.

 

But he can’t even think about how bad of a decision it is, because Kuroo’s face completely lights up. Then he says, “Really?” and Kenma tells him yes again, and Kuroo’s off on some tangent about how excited he is.

 

Then he says, “But I’m a second year. Isn’t that weird?”

 

Kenma says, “It doesn’t matter. You’re really good. I think I’m the one that should be nervous, ‘cause I suck.”

 

“That’s not true!” Kuroo says. “You’re just new to the game. But you’re gonna get better. And you’re already really damn good at strategizing. You’ve got a lot to bring to the team.”

 

Kenma rolls his eyes, because he mostly doesn’t believe it, but he’s going to do it anyways.

 

For Kuroo.

 

Maybe he really shouldn’t have started making friends.

 

.

 

He makes sure to stand very close to Kuroo as they walk into the gym. There’s just something intimidating about joining a team of people he doesn’t know. Kuroo doesn’t seem to mind at all; in fact, he presses just a little closer. The captain, a tall guy with short hair, eyes them warily. “Are you here for the volleyball team?”

 

“Yes,” Kuroo says softly. “We’d like to join.”

 

“First years?” the captain asks.

 

“No,” Tetsurou says, hanging his head. “I mean, he is. I’m a second year.”

 

“Why’d you take so long to join up, then?”

 

“Leave them alone, Iwami,” comes another voice. Another boy steps up, tall, long hair tied up into a tidy knot at the back of his head. “At least wait until we see what they’ve got to start harassing them.”

 

“I knew I made you vice-captain for a reason, Funada,” Iwami says to the boy, then turns back to them. “Okay, shorty, you’ll be on my team. Rooster hair, you’ll be with Funada. Okami! Yaku! Kai! Yamamoto! Fukunaga! Get your asses out here.”

 

Five more boys are suddenly on the court. Kenma gets assigned to the team with Iwami, a short boy with an angry look on his face, and a boy with a weird mohawk who seems to yell a lot. Iwami turns to him. “You ever set before?”

 

“A little bit,” Kenma manages.

 

“Good,” Iwami says. “Our setter’s on the other team, so you’ll be setting for us. Good luck.”

 

Kenma glares at his back. One of the other boys on his team chuckles, and he turns to see the mohawk guy standing beside him. “Don’t worry,” he whispers to Kenma. “Just between us, all us first-years hate him. We’re toughing it out, though. It’ll be better next year.”

 

Kenma just shrugs as some guy on the other team serves over to their side. He finds out immediately with his first failed set that playing with other people is _very_ different than playing with Kuroo, but on his second set, he manages to get it decently enough so that Iwami can slam it to the other side. Yamamoto, who he manages to figure out is the mohawk guy, lets out a whoop. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about!”

 

“Keep it down, Yamamoto,” Iwami snaps. Yamamoto sticks his tongue out behind Iwami’s back.

 

Kenma doesn’t suck in the game as much as he’d imagined. He’s not as good as Okami, the other team’s setter, who can send the balls high and with a perfect arc, but he manages to get it to who he wants to get it to. He also manages to fool Kuroo into trying to block the wrong spiker, which makes him a little giddy inside. By the time the game is over and they’re all sweating, Iwami gruffly says, “Let us have a little team meeting first.”

 

He drags all of the other boys into a circle, leaving Kenma and Kuroo alone. Kuroo glances over, a worried expression on his face, and Kenma says, “You’re gonna make it. You did amazing.”

 

“So did you,” Kuroo whispers back. “Especially for a newbie.”

 

The circle parts and Iwami loudly announces, “Well, you’re both in. Congratulations.”

 

The look on Kuroo’s face is one of pure joy. Kenma almost thinks it might be worth it.

 

.

 

Kenma hates volleyball.

 

Well, the sport isn’t that bad. It’s easy enough to get better, and Kenma definitely is getting better. It’s mostly the team, especially the third years. The second and first years are actually not bad, but the third years are constantly bossing him around and harassing him because of the stupid hierarchy system or whatever that somehow allows them to treat him like a servant just based on his age.

 

After practice, Iwami will thrust a water bottle into his face and demand “Go fill this up for me” without even a please. Or Okami will command “first years, mop the floor!” after practice, leaving him, Yamamoto, and Fukunaga to mop the floor alone, which takes actual ages.

 

He finds Kuroo outside waiting for him outside afterwards. Kuroo just sighs. “I’m sorry.”

 

“I want to quit,” Kenma announces.

 

“You can’t!” Kuroo says frantically. “I know it’s bad now, but it’ll get better. Especially after these third years graduate.”

 

“You said you didn’t like Yaku.”

 

“One bad apple won’t spoil the whole bunch.” Kenma sighs. Kuroo’s face softens a little, and he continues, “Please. Just stick it out for a little bit longer.”

 

“Fine,” Kenma says, and once again he’s shocked at the lengths he’ll go to for this boy.

 

Kuroo smiles. “Can I come to your house?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

 

Halfway through their gaming session, Kuroo turns to Kenma and smiles again, a real, soft smile that makes Kenma’s insides tangle up. “Thanks,” he says. Kenma knows exactly what he’s thanking him for.

 

“It’s fine,” Kenma says. Kuroo smiles again.

 

.

 

Volleyball changes Kuroo.

 

It’s something Kenma had noticed the first time they’d played together, but the longer he plays, the more involved he becomes with the team, the more obvious it becomes. Kuroo smiles more. He doesn’t stutter as much. He stands up straighter, so that his hair doesn’t hide as much of his face anymore. He talks significantly more, and to people he doesn’t know too well. He even drags Kenma out of the old classroom they eat lunch in into his own classroom so that they can sit with Kai and Yaku, even though Yaku keeps making snide comments to Kuroo the whole lunchtime. It’s all very strange to Kenma, but he doesn’t say anything.

 

Besides, nothing much changes between them. Kuroo still comes over to his house every day. They still play video games or watch volleyball games, though they never practice volleyball anymore; they get enough of that at practice. Though on the weekend, Kuroo says, “I’m going to the movies with Kai and Yamamoto. They told me to invite you.”

 

“Yeah?” Kenma asks. “And you want to go?”

 

“Sure,” Kuroo says. “I want to get to know the team.”

 

“I guess it couldn’t hurt,” Kenma says. “But no obnoxious action films.”

 

“I was not going to suggest that.”

 

“Yes, you were.”

 

“You don’t know that.”

 

“I know you,” Kenma says, and it’s true. The absurd amount of time he’s spent with Kuroo over the past couple of months means that he does know Kuroo - knows his favorite color, his favorite food, the movies he likes, the way he reacts to things. Even when Kuroo didn’t talk much, Kenma had been observing Kuroo. He’s still not 100% sure why he put so much effort into him.

 

But when they go to the movies and he sits next to Kuroo and his hand brushes his in the popcorn bowl, and Kuroo looks nervously at him and Kenma feels some kind of electric spark run up his arm, it suddenly hits Kenma.

 

_I’m in love with Kuroo Tetsurou._

 

He nearly drops the popcorn bowl. Yamamoto gives him a weird look. “Kenma, dude, you good?”

 

“Yeah,” Kenma says, settling back into his seat. He very intentionally does not look at Kuroo for the rest of the movie.

 

.

 

He doesn’t do anything about it, because it’s less effort that way. He figures if Kuroo feels the same way, which he’s not certain he does, then Kuroo will make the first move. He very distinctly ignores the fact that he’d been the one to make the first move in every situation throughout the course of their relationship.

 

One day after school, Kuroo runs up to join him. “Our first game is next week,” he says, practically shaking with excitement. “Are you ready?”

 

“It’s not like I’m gonna play,” Kenma says, shrugging. “But it’ll be fun to watch, I guess.”

 

“I’m probably not going to play either,” Kuroo says.

 

“Shut up,” Kenma says. “You are too. You’re one of the best on the team.”

 

Kuroo turns red again. It’s kind of satisfying, that Kenma can have this effect on him, but Kenma tries not to read too much into it. Kuroo just says, “If you say so.”

 

Yamamoto joins them then, giving Kuroo a high five and then Kenma too. “Sounds like you’re ready for the game next week, bro.”

 

“Hell yeah, bro,” Kuroo says enthusiastically.

 

“We’re gonna kick some ass!” Yamamoto says. “Or you will, at least, ‘cause I’m pretty sure you’re in the starting lineup.”

 

“See,” Kenma says.

 

Kuroo turns red again. He stammers something like “I- I don’t know about that.” Yamamoto just shrugs and says, “If you say so, bro. Well, see ya guys tomorrow.”

 

“You seem to be fitting in pretty well,” Kenma says.

 

“You too,” Kuroo says. “Yamamoto talks about you all the time.” Kenma smiles, and Kuroo brushes a strand of hair behind Kenma’s ear. It’s almost romantic, especially with the way Kuroo starts to lean in, but then he stops himself. He stutters, “Although, uh, well, Yamamoto… he’s so dumb. He, uh, he said you kinda look like the girl from _The Ring_ and you scared him at first.”

 

“What,” Kenma says flatly.

 

“Yeah,” Kuroo says. “Apparently it’s an urban legend, uh, floating around the team. That the girl from _The Ring_ haunts the team. But it’s… it’s just you.”

 

Kenma groans. “Shit.”

 

“Sorry,” Kuroo offers. He then starts talking about the team they’re playing next week, but Kenma’s head is already buzzing, coming up with a solution.

 

.

 

Kuroo’s jaw drops when he walks into the gym the next day.

 

“Your _hair,_ ” he says, voice low.

 

“I dyed it,” Kenma says casually. “I can’t look like a horror movie character, Kuroo.”

 

“It… you… holy shit,” Kuroo says.

 

“Is it bad?”

 

“No, no, no,” Kuroo manages. “It’s… different. But it’s good. Very good.”

 

“DAMN,” Yamamoto yells as he walks into the gym. “Kenma with the new hair! Lookin’ good, my dude.”

 

Iwami yells back, “Shut up, Yamamoto.”

 

“First year drama,” Funada says, rolling his eyes. “Thank god we’re above that.”

 

“First years, go get the balls,” Iwami commands. Kenma frowns, but gives Kuroo a short wave as he follows Yamamoto and Fukunaga to the ball room.

 

On the walk to Kenma’s house after practice, Kuroo keeps staring at him. It gets to the point that Kenma has to ask, “Is something wrong?”

 

“N-no,” Kuroo stutters. “I mean, no. It’s just - you look so different. Not in a bad way. Just different.”

 

“I didn’t think it’d be this light,” Kenma admits.

 

“It’s a good shade,” Kuroo tells him.

 

Kenma stops walking. Confused, Kuroo turns back towards him, raising an eyebrow in question, and Kenma decides that he can’t let it keep going like this. He can’t keep having Kuroo act more and more awkward around him. He was the first one to talk to Kuroo, the first one to ask him over, the one to suggest that they join the team. It only makes sense that he would be the first to do this too.

 

So he says, “Kuroo, do you like me?”

  
“Of course I do,” Kuroo says softly. “You’re my… my best friend.”

 

“Not like that.”

 

Kuroo ducks his head down further, says, “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

 

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Kenma says, stepping towards him. He takes one of Kuroo’s much bigger hands in both of his and stares up at him, the stars dancing in the sky behind Kuroo as Kuroo’s mouth falls open.

 

“Shit,” Kuroo breathes out. “Kenma.” He doesn’t say anything else, though, just leans down until his lips are pressed against Kenma’s and his hands are behind Kenma’s back, pulling Kenma close to him. Kenma lets him, thinks once again that there isn’t a thing in the world he wouldn’t do for Kuroo, for whatever reason.

 

“Thank you,” Kuroo says again once he pulls back, resting his forehead against Kenma’s.

 

Kenma smiles back. “Any time.”

 

.

 

A year and a half later, after losing to Karasuno, Kenma looks up at his boyfriend from where he’s laying on the court, completely exhausted. Kuroo laughs at him and extends a hand. “Get up, lazy ass.”

 

Kenma rolls his eyes and takes Kuroo’s hand. Kuroo pulls him up to his feet, but doesn’t let go of his hand. Kenma says, “Thank you, Kuro.”

 

“Huh?” Kuroo looks puzzled. “For what? For being your amazing, absolutely charming boyfriend? That’s my pleasure.”

 

“No,” Kenma says. “For getting me into volleyball.”

 

Kuroo’s entire face splits into a grin, a grin so big it shines in his eyes. Kenma’s heart jumps in his chest. Kuroo says, “That was all you, baby. You’re the one that got us on the team,” in a voice so quiet Kenma can barely hear it.

 

Kenma leans up to press a quick kiss to his cheek. Behind them, Haiba Lev yells something along the lines of, “THE CAPTAIN AND KENMA ARE BEING GROSS ON THE COURT AGAIN!”

 

“Get a boyfriend as cute as mine and try to hold yourself back,” Kuroo yells back.

 

Kenma buries his face in Kuroo’s side and whispers, “You’re so embarrassing.”

 

“You brought it out of me,” Kuroo says, kissing the top of his head. And, much as Kenma might hate it, he knows it’s true. But he wouldn’t want it any other way.

 

“Come over for dinner this week,” Kenma says, squeezing his hand. “Mom’s been begging you for you to come over again.”

 

“Ah, and I’ve even charmed your mom! Success.”

 

“You charmed my mom because you were the first friend I’d ever brought over.”

 

Kuroo smiles, giving Kenma’s hand another squeeze. “That’s a real honor,” he says sincerely, a hint of a blush rising up to his cheeks. And even though Kenma’s glad to see Kuroo be the obnoxious, talkative captain he was always meant to be, it’s sometimes nice to see a glimpse of the quiet, polite boy he’d first met. Just another reminder that even though things change, he and Kuroo never really will.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So I recently read Chapter 318 and (spoilers) the story of how Kenma was the one to break Kuroo out of his shell, to get him to go to the practice that got him to join the team eventually, and I started to think about what would happen if Kenma wasn't there. This is, to me, one possibility - Kuroo just practices volleyball by himself, too nervous to join a volleyball team by himself. I'm sure there are other ways Kuroo could've broken out of his shell, but hey, I like this one. And writing a shy, nervous Kuroo that eventually blossoms into the obnoxious Kuroo we all know and love is fun. 
> 
> Please leave a comment if you enjoyed or if you have anything to say about the story, really! I love hearing from you. (Plus, this was all written in one day, so it might have some errors.)


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